


Call Me Darling

by gaylock



Series: Darling Disaster, You Are My Sin [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Anthea and Mycroft are BFFS, BAMF Anthea, BAMF Sally, Bakery and Coffee Shop, F/F, F/M, Greg Plays Rugby, Greg is Sweet, Irene Adler Ships Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Irene and Sherlock are BFFS, Irene does ballet, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Molly does ballet, Mycroft is smart, Mystrade - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Teen Greg, Teen John, Teen Mycroft, Teen Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6196906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaylock/pseuds/gaylock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is gonna be a WIP, and I'll probably update sparsely, because I have so many other WIP fics right now :/ But I do have this fic planned out completely, as well as a multitude of other fics from this universe planned out already:) So yay for that.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Fuckity Fuck

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be a WIP, and I'll probably update sparsely, because I have so many other WIP fics right now :/ But I do have this fic planned out completely, as well as a multitude of other fics from this universe planned out already:) So yay for that.

     It was the second last period of the day, and Greg watched the clock above the teacher’s desk tick the time away in the slowest possible manner. It’s not that Greg disliked History class, because he didn’t. In fact, he quite liked it. Who wouldn’t want to learn about their country’s past, and awesome things like wars and government upheaval? No, the fact was that as much as Greg enjoyed the things he learned in History, there was something he enjoyed much, much more.

      Turning slightly in his seat, Gregory Lestrade scanned the desks to his left for the fiftieth time in the past sixty minutes. There was still a complete absence of auburn hair in the assembled students, and Greg couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh. Despite the fact that the class was nearly over, Greg had hoped that the missing student would still show up. Alas, as the clocks ticking continued, and the end of class crept significantly closer, Greg let his head rest on top of his desk and admitted defeat; the student was not showing up to class today.

     The weather outside matched perfectly his mood, the sky a dull grey and the clouds the colour of oncoming rain. Not that it ever looked much different, considering they resided in England and the weather was notoriously wet and grey all the time. But still, it gave Greg some satisfaction, knowing that Mother Nature was suffering the same mood as he was.

     Normally, History class was a time of excitement for him, as they often times discussed and debated the topics they learned about. Greg would then sit back and watch as the one student in the class who, in Greg’s opinion, outshone all the rest, bested all the other arguments flawlessly and without any trouble at all. It was possibly Greg’s favourite thing to do; watch the young man as he used logic to break his opponents apart and smother their attempts at rising back up. It was absolutely magnificent!

     Unfortunately, the student had not been present at today’s debate, and Greg felt his absence strongly, if the number of times he had glanced at the empty seat three rows from his was any indication. And as History was his only class with him, Greg felt as if his up-until-this-point moderately good day had been ruined. Next period Greg had free, before a two-hour Rugby practice, and it would be approximately 23 hours before he had the chance to sit in this class and watch the magnificence that is Mycroft Holmes at work. That is, if he bothered to show up tomorrow. Greg groaned as the bell rang, and sat up.

     Sometimes life fucking sucks.

 

“I expect two thousand words on the religious and empirical significance of Elizabeth’s Reign before class on Wednesday next week. Class dismissed.”

     As the class emptied around him, Greg was busy shoving his textbook and pencils back into his book-bag. He was almost finished when the low, quiet voice of his History Professor, Mr. O’Leary, spoke up.

“Mr. Lestrade, a word please.”

     Greg looked up and sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder before stepping up to the front of the classroom and up beside the teacher’s desk. “Sir?”  


     His teacher cleared his throat slightly, before leaning forwards over the top of his desk and frowning. “Mr. Lestrade, it is my belief that your placement on the school’s Rugby team is dependent on you maintaining a GPA of 80%.” Mr. O’Leary raised his eyebrows in question, his hands coming to rest on top of his desk.

  
     Greg swallowed thickly and nodded. Well, fuck. “Yes, that is correct sir.”

     Mr. O’Leary nodded back, and his eyebrows descended from their high perch on his forehead, coming to rest once again over his dark eyes. “I see.” Leaning back in his chair, he took a moment to pick up one of the documents on his desk and scan it.

“Mr. Lestrade, it has come to my attention that your GPA has dropped 5% in the past month, due nearly entirely to your mark in my class.” He tilted his head down and peered over his spectacles.

     Greg winced slightly. Oh god, Coach was gonna kill him, not to mention Mum…

“Mr. O’Leary, sir… I know my scores on the past two tests haven’t been exactly stellar, but I have been trying, I swear, and—”

     His teacher cut him off mid protest. “Mr. Lestrade, I have no doubt that you have been trying. You seem to be very dedicated to your schoolwork, and not at all the type of boy to shirk his duties for the sake of sport. If it was up to me, this would not pose any problem at all. Unfortunately, it is not up to me.” Mr. O’Leary sighed wearily, pulling his glasses off with one hand and rubbing over his brow with the other.

“Mr. Lestrade, Headmaster Jones and Coach Simmons have made it clear that unless you bring your History grade up before exams, by at least 10%, you will find yourself removed from the Rugby team. That gives you little more than five weeks to re-take both tests in addition to completing all work up until that point with the highest possible grades. I am afraid that there is nothing I can do to remedy the situation, and I suggest you find a tutor as quickly as possible.”

    Greg stood frozen in place for a moment, his mind reeling.

“Yes, sir. Thank you. I’ll just, um…” And with a nod, Greg turned quickly and made his way out of the classroom. He clutched at the strap of his bag like it was a life line, and made his way down the corridor to his locker.

    Thankfully his feet knew the way, because his brain was to unfocused to actually be of any use. All he could think about, was Mr. O’Leary’s words over and over again, and his own panicked reaction to them.

     ‘10%? In only _five weeks_? How the hell was he supposed to accomplish that? _Two_ retests, plus all his other school work, _plus_ the rest of his History shit…and _then_ exams… Buggering fuck… he was screwed! Destined to fail! And without his position as Captain on the Rugby team, he would never be able to maintain his scholarship! Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck… Coach was gonna blow a fuse… and his team was gonna kill him for making them stage tryouts for another Captain… and _then_ when he got home in a body bag, his Mum would revive him, only to murder him all over again once she found out about the sorry state of his grades!

     And his scholarship!’ Greg froze anew, coming to a standstill in the middle of a corridor, as this new thought struck him. His eyes widened and he felt as if his world was crashing down around his feet. ‘The scholarship would become null if his grades dropped past an 80%! Mum would be furious, she had worked so many extra hours, and saved every spare penny to get him the chance to go to this school, and here he was, throwing it all away like a right berk! Oh shit, if he got kicked out, he would never forgive himself…’

     Greg was so unfocused, and in such a high state of panic, that as his feet carried him through the corridors, he failed to notice a pair of ice blue eyes following him as he made his way down the hall. Ice blue eyes that peered out from under auburn bangs, both which belonged to one Mycroft Holmes.

 


	2. An Interesting Development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft stood in the slight opening, frozen. It wasn’t just some student, being questioned by their teacher. No, the student within the classroom wasn’t just another goldfish; it was Gregory Lestrade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is longer than the last one, and not limited to a single POV ;-; I did a bit in Anthea's POV, and some in Mycroft's too, but there are dividers, so it shouldn't be too hard to distinguish between them:) 
> 
> Also, in case you couldn't tell, Anthea signs her texts with an -A, and Mycroft signs his with an -MH. Molly's are the unsigned ones:) Enjoy!

            Nails tapping against the screen of her phone, the brunette teenager sent a quick text to her best friend as she stood at her locker after the lunch break.

**_Where are you? -A_ **

            Standing at her locker waiting for a reply, she quickly sent off another text, to her other best friend.

 ** _Hey Mols, we still on for today? -A_**  


**Hi Anthea! And yeah, meet me in the studio today after**  
**school, I should be done around 3 ish.**  
  
  
  
**_You have practice tonight? I thought it was on_**  
**_Monday’s and Thursdays? -A_**

  
  
**Yeah it is, but me and the girls wanted the extra practice.**

  
  
**_OK, I’ll meet you there. I have to leave early tonight though, it’s_ **  
**_study group night, and you know how Myc is about punctuality -A_ **

  
 

            After finishing up texting Molly, Anthea checked her phone and saw that Mycroft had texted her back. She read the text and rolled her eyes. Honestly, you’d think he was Sherlock’s mum, not his brother.

**_  
Currently attending to my brother. -MH_ **

  
            Tapping out a reply, she quickly pulled her bag higher up on her shoulder and began walking towards her next class: History.

 _  
**Oh for fuck’s sakes. Okay, well try to make it**_  
**_back in time for History, okay? I can’t keep giving_ **  
**_O’Leary excuses. -A_**

  
     A few seconds later, her Blackberry beeped with Mycroft’s reply, and she scanned the text as she stepped into her classroom and took her seat near the front of the class.

**_  
__I’ll do my best, but no promises; my brother is being_ **   
_more difficult than usual. -MH_

  
  
            ‘That’s a no, then.’ She thought to herself, and sighed. Pulling her textbook and binder out of her bag, Anthea sat and waited for everyone to shuffle in and take their seats, knowing that it would be up to her to scribe notes for Mycroft to look over later that night. ‘I’m gonna buy only chocolate muffins tonight, just to spite him.’ She thought, before turning to the front of the class as Professor O’Leary began serenading them all with the wonder’s of the Tudor line.

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**  


            Anthea Boyette stood outside of Baker Street School, tapping her foot impatiently. Her brown eyes scanned the student parking lot continuously, until a black Bentley pulled up and parked with the precision of a perfectionist. She stared at the car until it stopped completely, fiddling with her Blackberry in her left hand.

“You’re late. Again. Mr. O’Leary is _not_ happy.”

            Mycroft Holmes heaved himself out of his car and scowled at the girl waiting for him at the doorway to the school. “If it wouldn’t upset Mummy, I’d kill the little brat right now.”

            Anthea raised her eyebrows and laughed. “What did he do this time?”       

            Mycroft sighed as he lifted his bag higher on his shoulder and stepped into the school corridor with his best friend beside him. “Rigged his classroom doorway with pudding. Pudding, Anthea! Honestly, the number of teachers I’ve had to placate, not to mention the amount of uniforms I’ve had to replace in the past year is frankly ridiculous.” Shaking his head slightly, he strode down the hallway. “If he doesn’t stop soon, the Holmes name will be nothing but that, a name. We’ll be left destitute, not a penny between us! Do you know how expensive science equipment is? And he’s already ruined three sets of lab technology this year.”

            Anthea unsuccessfully tried to hide her amusement, attempting to stifle her giggles behind her textbooks. The auburn haired boy turned towards her and glared, stopping in front of his locker.

“It isn’t funny.” He said, straightening his tie and twisting the key in his lock before opening the door.

“Of course not, no, no you’re right, it isn’t.” Anthea shook her head, then nodded, trying to look serious.

            She failed.

 

            Mycroft’s scowl returned, and he glared at his reflection in the small mirror on the door of his locker. “Oh come off it, of course _you_ think it’s hilarious. You probably think I’m being overdramatic, too. You always think it’s amusing when Sherlock pulls one of his little tricks!”

“That’s because it is. It’s not _my_ fault you don’t have a sense of humour. And you are being a _little_ bit overdramatic, Myc.” The brunette smiled cheekily, before linking arms with Mycroft and checking her phone. “Come on, we’re going to be late for World Gov. if you don’t hurry your ‘nearly destitute’ ass up.”

            Mycroft pulled his World Government book and binder out of his locker and pulled the door shut, clicking the lock back in place. “Your continued insistence on shortening the names of our classes is no less annoying than it was at the beginning of this term.”

            Anthea rolled her eyes as they began walking down the hallway. “Your continued insistence on eating only wholegrain muffins from the bakery is no less ridiculous than it was when you first started.”

            Mycroft smirked slightly, shoving his books into his bag and glancing at his phone. “Touché. You go ahead to World Government,” Here, Mycroft made a point of meeting his friends eyes, purposefully stating the _entire_ name of their next class. He ignored her eye roll and continued speaking. “I’m going to go talk to Mr. O’Leary before class begins, and see what I’ve missed.”

            Anthea nodded, and when they came to the doorway to the History classroom, she continued walking. “Just make sure you hurry up; you know how pissed Benner gets.”

            Mycroft huffed a sigh, and called after her, “ _Professor_ Benner, Anthea.”

            Not bothering to respond, she made a rude gesture over her shoulder and continued walking. Mycroft laughed quietly, shaking his head at her antics. He had come into the school in an absolutely foul mood, and after just a few minutes in the company of his best friend, he felt better. Moving forwards, Mycroft was about to step through the partly opened doorway, when his ears picked up voices from within. Leaning towards the opening in front of him, Mycroft Holmes put his amateur espionage skills to use and began listening in to the conversation going on within the room. With any luck he could learn something of use, something that would make decent…blackmail was such a pedestrian term, but for the sake of argument, that is the term to use…decent blackmail material for the future. He smiled slightly, and tuned into the conversation.

 

“…it has come to my attention that your GPA has dropped 5% in the past month, due nearly entirely to your mark in my class.”

            That was most definitely the voice of his teacher…but who on earth could he be talking to? Mycroft pressed slightly more forward, attempting to discern the identity of the person being questioned. As his ears picked up the slightly panicked voice of the student within, the auburn haired boy’s eyes widened in recognition.  
  
            Oh.

“Mr. O’Leary, sir… I know my scores on the past two tests haven’t been exactly stellar, but I have been trying, I swear, and—”

            _Oh. God._

“Mr. Lestrade, I have no doubt that you have been trying. You seem to be very dedicated to your schoolwork, and not at all the type of boy to shirk his duties for the sake of sport. If it was up to me, this would not pose any problem at all. Unfortunately, it is not up to me.”

             
            Mycroft stood in the slight opening, frozen. It wasn’t just some student, being questioned by their teacher. It wasn’t another one of the idiotic juveniles who thought they knew everything, and never bothered to hand in assignments; no. It wasn’t someone Mycroft could control with blackmailing information. It was the one student in his History class (other than Anthea, of course) whom Mycroft didn’t think was an idiot, the one student who actually challenged Mycroft in debates, and used an intelligent and logical argument to do so. The one student who, despite trying not to, Mycroft found his eyes drawn to time and time again. That dark hair, those darker eyes, that charming smile. Defined arm muscles that flexed with every raise of a hand, strong calves that on warmer days were left bare, showing off a body toned by Rugby. No, the student within the classroom wasn’t just another goldfish; it was Gregory Lestrade.

            The sound of the voices within the room got slightly louder, and Mycroft forced himself to unfreeze and begin listening again.

“…unless you bring your History grade up before exams, by at least 10%, you will find yourself removed from the Rugby team. That gives you little more than five weeks to re-take both tests in addition to completing all work up until that point with the highest possible grades. I am afraid that there is nothing I can do to remedy the situation, and I suggest you find a tutor as quickly as possible.”

            All that in five weeks? On top of every other class, _and_ Rugby? Good lord, he would most certainly need a tutor, if not a bloody miracle! Poor Gregory…wait. 

            Wait a second.

            Mycroft paused, his big brain whirring in thought, as an idea popped up into his head. Slowly, the idea began to take shape, transforming from a simple idea, into a plan. If Gregory needed a tutor…and he himself was top of the class…well, top of every class, actually…then who but himself would make the best possible tutor for the brown haired boy?

            He smiled widely at the thought, knowing it was true. Knowing also, that there was more to his wanting to tutor Gregory than altruistic reasons. But the reasons don’t matter, right? Of course not, what matters is helping Gregory out, and making sure he got to keep his place on the Rugby team. Mycroft nodded to himself, cementing the idea in his head, his brain already coming up with a way to put his plan into action.

“Yes, sir. Thank you. I’ll just, um…”

            Mycroft jolted in shock as footsteps moved quickly towards his hiding place, and he stepped out of the way of the door and into a small alcove just as the brunette stepped out of the room and into the corridor. He pressed himself against the wall in the hope that Gregory would not spot him, and luckily, it seemed Gregory was much too distracted and distressed to notice much of anything at all. Mycroft let out his breath, not having realised he had been holding it in the first place, and watched the other boy make his way slowly down the corridor, presumably towards his locker.

            ‘Now,’ He thought to himself, as Gregory’s figure disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall. ‘Time to put my plan into action.’ And with that thought, the auburn haired teenager stepped out of the alcove and past the now open doorway of the History room, completely forgetting his original intentions of speaking with his History Professor. Instead, he walked quickly down the hallway, following the sound of Gregory’s footsteps echoing off the corridor walls.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

           

            Anthea finished reading the chapter in her textbook that had been assigned to them at the beginning of class, and sighed. Her eyes glanced quickly at the clock above the doorway, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course Mycroft was fifteen minutes late to class; he was probably getting lectured by O’Leary on the importance of education and respect for one’s elders, or some other such nonsense. She snorted under her breath and looked around at her fellow classmates. Seeing everyone still focussed on their textbooks, Anthea risked pulling her phone out and sending a quick text to Mycroft.

 **_Hurry the fuck up, Gingersnap. Benner_ **  
**_will blow a fuse if you don’t show up soon. -A_ **

            She glanced up at the clearing of a throat, and grinned sheepishly at Mrs. Benner, before clicking her phone off and dropping it into her bag. Tapping her nails against her thigh, Anthea gazed about the room again, looking for something to distract her for the next few minutes while everyone else finished their reading. Normally she’d chat quietly with Mycroft, but the stupid bugger still wasn’t there yet. During her search, her brown eyes alighted on the occupant of the desk two seats to the right of her, and she narrowed her eyes slightly. She watched as the boy sitting there pulled his phone out and unlocked it under his desk, quickly navigating his apps until he opened the messaging one and clicked on a name. Her eyes narrowed still further as she tried to read it from four feet away. It looked sort of like…... _No._

            Her eyes widened slightly as she caught sight of the name he had clicked on, and her eyebrows flew up into her bangs when she caught sight of the text the boy had received. She hurriedly looked away, her cheeks flushing darkly as she tried to erase the image from her mind. Unfortunately, she couldn’t, and she was left with the image of Sally Donovan’s smiling face and naked chest running through her mind. Closing her eyes didn’t help in the least; it felt as if the image was burned onto the backs of her eyelids. Opening her eyes slowly, making sure to keep her face turned away from the boy’s phone, Anthea frowned in thought. Why on earth would Sally Donovan be sending…pictures of a … _salacious_ …nature to Philip Anderson? Wasn’t he in a relationship? And actually, wasn’t he _gay_? Before she could continue that train of thought, her ears picked up the sound of footsteps outside the classroom door, and she looked up in time to see a flash of dark hair pass the open doorway, before the footsteps became quieter as they faded into the distance.

            She sighed, annoyed that it wasn’t Mycroft, and glanced up at the clock again, noting that it had now been twenty-three minutes since class had started, and Mycroft still wasn’t there. She shrugged and pulled her notebook out. But just as everyone else was starting to finish the reading up, and closing their own textbooks, Anthea’s eyes caught a flash of auburn hair and pale skin above the blue of the school blazer through the open doorway, before it too disappeared. Her eyes narrowed once again, and she pursed her lips. Mycroft Holmes better have a bloody good reason for not being in class right now, especially since she had had to already take notes for him in History, and there was no way in Hell she was going to do it again.


	3. Call Me Greg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They stood there, in silence for a few moments, just staring at each other with small smiles on their faces and laughter in their eyes. It took the echoing slam of a locker door further down the corridor to jolt them out of their positions, and the charged energy of their stare changed to awkwardness.

Greg stared at his locker door without really seeing it, his brain reeling from the conversation he’d just had with his history professor. His body was on autopilot as he unlocked the lock and pulled the door open, before shoving his bag inside. He caught his gaze in the small magnetic mirror placed on the inside of his locker door, and stared at himself in the reflection.

            What he saw there made him scowl in irritation. And, if he was being completely honest with himself, made him frown in shame. Of course he was going to lose his scholarship! Just look at him! Messy, boring brown hair that refused to stay gelled down, a crooked tie with a shitty knot, wrinkly second hand blazer; he was a joke. A total joke.

            Greg sighed and made a half hearted attempt to straighten his tie and smooth out his blazer. What had he been thinking, a common lad like him, coming here? Who had he been trying to fool? Sure, he was good at rugby. But, so what? He was a pathetic middle class kid with pathetic middle class prospects, and this was a school for posh, rich, snobby kids with fancy cars and two summer homes in France. His uniform was second hand, his looks were mediocre, apparently even his grades were dismal; the only thing he had going for him at all was rugby, and he’d even managed to bugger that up! Wrinkly, messy, middle class him couldn’t even keep his position on the rugby team, that’s how pathetic he was.

            It wasn’t until he slammed his locker door shut in frustration, that Greg noticed quiet footsteps approaching. “Oh great,” he muttered to himself. “Wouldn’t be surprised if that was the bloody headmaster, coming to kick me out.” He sighed wearily and turned around, ready to plaster on a fake smile and gracefully accept his defeat. Only, the person approaching him wasn’t the headmaster, although he was just as intimidating.

  
It was Mycroft Holmes.

  
_Mycroft Fucking Holmes._ Greg swallowed thickly as the teenager continued towards him, and waited for the boy to walk past him and continue down the hall to wherever he had to be. Only he didn’t. Instead, Mycroft came to a stop a few feet from where Greg was standing, his normally perfectly coiffed hair in disarray, and his cheeks slightly flushed. They stared at each other for a moment, before Greg realised he was blatantly staring and cleared his throat.

“Um…Hi. Hullo.” 

“Ah, yes, hello.” Greg watched as Mycroft straightened up slightly. “Gregory Lestrade, I do believe? I’m Myc–,”

“Mycroft Holmes, yeah, I know. We have History together.” Greg smiled a little, and held out his hand. His brain was stuck on the fact that _Mycroft Holmes_ of all people knew his name. “And call me Greg. Nobody but my Granny has ever called me Gregory.”

Mycroft looked surprised, before a tentative smile appeared on his face. “Ah, yes. We do have History together, quite right. I’ve found that you tend to present compelling and logical arguments for a number of diverse topics, and I cannot say that I do not… appreciate the challenge you present.” His hand clasped Greg’s in a firm handshake, and Greg shivered.

            It took Greg a second to wrap his still reeling head around the meaning of that wordy sentence, but when he finally did, he laughed. “Me, a challenge? I find that hard to believe. Really hard to believe. You win every single debate, especially when you and, what’s her name? Anthea? Team up on the rest of us.”

            The slight flush that had been on Mycroft’s face when he had approached returned, and he shook his head slightly. “When compared to the imbeciles I normally have to face, I can assure you that you are, indeed, a challenge. And believe me, I could not be more… pleased… with that fact, Gregory.”

             Greg raised his eyebrows and laughed again. “Oh, well, thanks. That’s actually really nice of you, considering some of the people in History are really smart.”

            Now it was Mycroft’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Gregory, you are speaking about our History class, correct? The one that just ended? The one in which _Philip Anderson_ , of all people, attends?” His eyebrows continued to move upwards with each statement of disbelief, as if he honestly could not comprehend what Greg meant.

            Greg grinned. “Okay, you got me there. How Philip managed to get into that class, I haven’t the faintest idea. He is a bit of an idiot, isn’t he? You should have heard him in class today; he basically said that Queen Elizabeth should have gotten married immediately, and that she nearly ‘ruined England’. I was very close to tossing either him or myself out of a window.”

            Greg watched in fascination as the other boy’s bright blue eyes lit up as he laughed. ‘Wow, he’s fucking _gorgeous_.’ Greg thought to himself. ‘What the hell is he doing talking to _me_?’

“Well, you’re not the only one who has harboured such a desire. Why, both Anthea and myself have confessed to such thoughts numerous times in just the past few weeks. But I know for a fact that the only reason he is still in the class, or any class for that matter, is because of his father’s influence.”

“Influence? What, is he like, a board member or something?”

Mycroft’s lips quirked. “Or something. He is not only a board member, but the board’s Director. As well as incredibly rich and a member of the political scene, if only in a minor capacity. So, as you can see, he has use of a hefty amount of influence within the school. Well, one must assume it’s a hefty amount, to be able to keep a cretin like Anderson enrolled in academic classes.”

Greg laughed again, shaking his head slightly. “God, yeah.”

Mycroft’s eyes shone. “ _Indeed_.”

            They stood there, in silence for a few moments, just staring at each other with small smiles on their faces and laughter in their eyes. It took the echoing slam of a locker door further down the corridor to jolt them out of their positions, and the charged energy of their stare changed to awkwardness. Mycroft’s flush was back in full force, turning his pale freckled cheeks a shade of red that clashed with his hair. It should have looked ridiculous, but Greg found himself smiling, and had to force his eyes to move away from the adorable flush. He cleared his throat as he fought down the urge to kiss the blushing cheeks only a few feet away from him.

            “Uh, Mycroft?”

            “Yes, Gregory?” Mycroft said, pointedly not looking in the other boy’s direction, instead choosing to look down.

Greg smiled at the other boy’s apparent fascination with the tiles beneath his feet, before continuing. “No, Greg, please. Honest, it’s easier and I’m used to it.”

“I’ll endeavor to remember that for future occasions.”

Greg snorted. “Liar.”

            At that Mycroft finally raised his gaze, as well as one of his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been found out, Mycroft Holmes. Worst lie ever, might wanna try harder next time.”

            Mycroft smirked and shifted on his feet. “Ah, but it wasn’t a lie at all. I shall indeed remember that shortening ‘Gregory’ to ‘Greg’ is easier. I do not believe, however, that I will put the derivative to use.”  

“Anything I can do to convince you otherwise?” Greg asked, holding the flirtatious smile he wanted to release inside. Mycroft Holmes was actually chatting with him, and it wouldn’t do any good to scare the boy away now; who knew when the next time they’d get to chat would be? So Greg kept his more flirtatious nature on a tight leash.

“I’d have to say no, although there was something I wished to ask you, which was the entire point of my original approach.” Mycroft fidgeted where he stood for a moment, before stepping forwards the tiniest bit as he said, “I’m afraid I overheard a small portion of yours and Professor O’Leary’s conversation some minutes ago, and wished to offer you my services as a supplementary source of education. Well, that is to say, I was hoping you would accept my offer to assist you in your endeavours to maintain your required GPA, so that you may continue on in your position as Rugby Captain and academic student in this institution.” All this came out in a rush, and his face was no longer lightly flushed, but a flaming tomato red. Which, once again, should have looked ridiculous, but which Greg found to be decidedly adorable. Or, he would have, if he had not been too busy trying to figure out what Mycroft’s long speech had been about to notice.

            When his brain finally did catch up to the meaning of the words, after having weeded out the unnecessary ones, he couldn’t help but stand still in shock. Mycroft was offering to… _tutor_ him? Sexy, posh, genius Mycroft Holmes? What?

“What?”

            Mycroft blinked slowly. “I said, I wish to offer you my–,”

Greg waved a hand in the air, shaking his head. “No, I know what you said, I just, uh,” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I guess I was just wondering, um…why?”

            Once again Mycroft blinked slowly, a look of confusion on his face. “Because, as I said, you need to maintain your GPA in order to—,”

“No, I meant like, why _me_? Why are _you_ offering to help _me_?”

            Mycroft’s look of confusion turned into a frown, and his eyes seemed to trace Greg’s facial features as if searching for something as he said, “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

            Greg gestured with one hand, indicating his body. “Look at me! I’m a nobody, just a common lad, and you’re, well, not. Yeah? So, why me?” Greg stood there in front of his locker door, waiting for an answer, and felt a wave of embarrassment flow through him. It was true, after all. He was a nobody, and Mycroft most definitely was a somebody, and the sooner they both realised it, the sooner Mycroft could realise his mistake and take back his offer.

“No.”

            Greg raised his eyebrows. “Sorry?”

“No, I’ve already answered that question, and I do not like to repeat myself. The fact that you don’t seem to believe that I, or another person similar to myself, would choose to help you get ahead in your studies so you may maintain your various positions is, frankly, insulting. You need help, and so I am offering to give it to you. That is the entirety of it.”

            Greg gaped. “But––,”

“No. No to your question, no to me rescinding the offer, no to an ulterior motive, no to needing an alternate reason to help out a student whom I have already stated, previous to this, I believe to be intelligent and certainly more competent that the vast majority of the student body within these walls. And in case that didn’t cover what you were just about to say, no to that as well. So, unless you believe me to be incapable of assisting you in the way you need, there can be no logical argument against my position, and I will not accept an illogical refusal. And, if that is the case, let me assuage your worries by stating that there is no one more fit than myself, accepting possibly a professor, to which you could go to for assistance in raising your GPA to the level you need.”

             Mycroft wore a look of utter seriousness on his face as his eyes bore into Greg’s. Greg had no response, and could do nothing but stare incredulously at the boy before him.

“So, as that has now been sorted satisfactorily, let us start again. Gregory, you will accept my offer to assist you, and I will try my hardest to rise to the task.”

            Greg sputtered. “Will I?” He crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

            Mycroft mimicked the action and raised a single eyebrow. “Do you have a logical reason for a reiterated refusal?”

            Greg’s sputtering continued, before he shut his mouth and glared.

            Mycroft smirked smugly and uncrossed his arms. “I thought not. So, again. You will accept my offer, and I will rise to the task.”

            Greg sighed and uncrossed his arms as well. “You could try actually asking me, instead of stating it like it’s an order, or whatever.”

            Mycroft merely raised his eyebrow higher, and Greg huffed and held out his hand.

“Alright, fine. Yes, I will accept your offer.”

            Mycroft dropped his eyebrow and smiled, reaching over to clasp Greg’s hand in his once again. “Good. I’m glad you decided to see sense.”

            Greg snorted and let go of Mycroft’s hand. “Yeah, go me. Don’t know why I even bothered, you always win debates anyways, I didn’t stand a chance.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, had you been able to find a logical reason to refuse, and been able to create an argument based on such, I’m sure you would have, as you say, stood a chance.”

“Well, cheers. I won’t let myself get to upset over it; I have the feeling you almost never lose, so the fact that I lost isn’t such a big deal.”

            Mycroft smiled and nodded. “That would be wise. Now, I must be getting to my class, Anthea is likely to toss _me_ out the window if I miss another full class today. Thank you for your time, Gregory, and for your acceptance of my offer.”

            Greg nodded back and turned towards his locker. “Yeah, I’ll see you in History tomorrow. Have fun in class, good luck with Anthea.” He turned to grin slightly at Mycroft before the other boy also turned away.

“Quite. Good day, Gregory.” And with that, Mycroft Holmes turned around and began walking back the way he’d come. Greg stood in front of his locker and watched as the boy made his way down the hall. His eyes didn’t leave the taller form until it turned the corner, and it was only then that Greg turned back towards his locker to remove his Rugby gear and think about what had just happened.

            ‘I’m going to be tutored by Mycroft Holmes.’ He thought, testing it out in his mind to see how it sounded, now that it was definitely happening. On one hand, he was so fucking lucky; Mycroft was not only incredibly sexy and adorable, but also really fucking smart. There was no way he’d lose out on his scholarship, if he had the auburn haired boy helping him, which meant that both his position on the team, as well as his place in the school, were safe. On the other hand, that meant endless hours of sitting in close quarters with the boy, without being able to act on any of his desires. Greg had no idea if Mycroft was straight or gay or bisexual, but there was no way in hell he would kill his chances of being tutored by finding out. Which meant endless hours reigning in his flirtatious nature, maintaining a socially acceptable distance from the other boy’s body, and trying not to give in to his desire to kiss Mycroft. Greg thought of the other boy’s delicious looking lips and groaned.

Oh god, he was so fucking screwed.


	4. What Are Best Friend's For?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long delay, I had major writers block. I haven't been able to write a word for weeks, I'm just glad I finally moved past it! :) Hope it doesn't sound to stupid, it's really only a filler chapter. The next one will have more happening, and probably more than one POV.

Anthea waited until Professor Benner had her back turned, before pulling her phone out and quickly tapping out a text to Mycroft.  
  
  
**_WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? -A_**

 _  
_ She only had to wait a few seconds, before her phone was vibrating in her hands. She made sure Benner still had her back turned before glancing down at the screen.  
  
****_  
__I'm right outside the room.  
_ _Distract Benner for me? -MH_  
  
  
Anthea rolled her eyes and sighed. The things she did for that idiot boy...she huffed out a breath, and stood up. "Professor?" She called out, standing up and stepping away from her desk. Her voice called the teacher's attention away from the student she was explaining a concept from the textbook to.   
  
"Yes, Miss Boyette? Did you need me to explain something?"  
  
Anthea nodded and continued forwards towards Benner and the whiteboard in front of them. "Yes, I was wondering if you could go over a part of the text we just read? Section 4.9? I found myself having a little trouble with it."

Professor Benner smiled and turned towards the whiteboard, her back to the door, as she pulled out a marker and began to write. "Well, I'm glad you asked, because I felt that most of you would have a little trouble with that part. You see, when Germany..." As she narrated and drew her explanation, Anthea nodded along and turned her body slightly so she was better able to watch the classroom door. Every student's eyes were facing the whiteboard, and the teacher's explanation, which was good because it made it much easier for Mycroft to slowly open the door further and slide inside, before shutting it silently behind him.

Anthea glanced at him from the corner of her eye and smiled, still nodding along to Benner's narrative. She held her breath until she saw her friend was safely seated, no one the wiser. She waited an additional few seconds for him to get settled, before nodding once more and saying, "Thank you, Professor Benner. I understand it much better now." She smiled at her teacher before making her way back to her seat, which was directly beside Mycroft's. She sat down and opened her textbook back up, sliding it over on the desk a little and pointing at the page number with one finger. "From this page to the end of the chapter." She whispered under her breath for the benefit of Mycroft.  
  
"Thanks." He whispered back, sounding distracted. Anthea leaned back slightly in her chair and took a moment to study him.  
  
His normally perfect hair was slightly ruffled, his blazer was wrinkled, and his tie crooked. All of these things could be contributed to being in a rush to get to class, as well as having to deal with a Sherlock instigated issue, but Anthea couldn't help but frown slightly. No, that wasn't all...there was something she was missing, she was sure of it. Her sharp brown eyes scanned his face, taking in the flushed skin, and the nearly imperceptible smile gracing his lips. It was clearly unconscious, and Anthea was hard pressed to think of a time Mycroft had smiled like that, all soft and contented.   
  
"Why were you so late?" She asked quietly, an idea coming into her brain suddenly. If she was to hazard a guess, well...let's just say she may have recognized the brown hair that had passed the slightly open door before Mycroft's flash of auburn.   
  
Mycroft didn't look up from his reading as he said, "No reason."

Anthea snorted, turning in her seat to better face him as she replied, "Oh come on, tell me. You know you want to." She watched as his smile widened and he sat up straight, turning in his seat to face her also.

"I ran into a classmate, and we had a bit of a chat, that's all." He shrugged and turned back to his book.

Anthea narrowed her eyes. "Well...if you say so." She said slowly, knowing he was leaving something out but not quite sure what or if it was important enough to badger him about while in class. She turned back to face the front of the room, closing her textbook.

"Oh, and one more thing." Mycroft said, his face still turned downwards towards the book on his desk.

Anthea raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" Turning in her seat slightly, she caught a glimpse of her friend's smirk, and knew he was going to tell her what he had really been up to while skipping class. And if it involved a certain brunette...well, here's to hoping. "Do tell." She said sarcastically, trying to hide the fact that she was actually quite interested and basically on the edge of her seat. Honestly, she thought, I diverted Benner's attention so he could slip into class unnoticed, the least he could do is tell me why he was late in the first place.

  
"There will be someone else joining us for our weekly study session from now on. Just thought you should know." 

  
Anthea's eyebrows flew up and her entire body froze.  _What?_

  
"What?"

  
Mycroft turned towards her, finally looking up from his book. His lips were turned upwards in a smile, and his blue eyes practically shone. "Yes, well, they need some help getting their grades up, and I offered my services."

  
This caused Anthea's eyebrows to move even further up her forehead. Mycroft Holmes, offering his scholastic abilities to another student? Mycroft Holmes, posh perfectionist, who basically hated the entire student body? Mycroft Holmes, who couldn't stand idiots, who disdained mediocrity, offering to _help out someone else?_ Anthea nearly choked in surprise. But, if it was the person she thought it might be, maybe it wasn't so out of the ordinary. She furrowed her brows for a moment in thought. Yes, she was almost positive it had been Gregory Lestrade who had rushed past the classroom door only moments before Mycroft had. And she _had_ caught Mycroft stealing glances at him for the past two months in their History class, despite the fact that he tried to be subtle. She stifled a snort and looked back up at her friend.

  
"You offered your... _services_ , did you?" She raised on eyebrow and smirked. "That's rather suggestive, isn't it?"

  
She watched in satisfaction as her best friend sputtered indignantly. "Well, that is- I wasn't suggesting that...no, I'm quite sure I didn't mean anything of the sort-"

  
Anthea laughed and shook her head. "It's fine, Myc, I'm just kidding. In fact, I'm glad you asked Greg to join us, it'll be nice to have a new perspective on some things." She smiled cheekily at the ginger.

  
Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "How did you-" he began quietly, but was cut off when the teacher tapped his desk with her ruler.

  
"Mr. Holmes, I see you've decided to join us."  
  
  
Mycroft straightened up and folded his hands on his desk. "Yes, Professor Benner."  
  
  
Benner nodded. "And while I'm sure we're all very glad you are here, I'm quite certain that your time is better spent reading the text than it is being distracted by Miss. Boyette."  
  
  
Anthea hid a smirk behind her hand as Mycroft said, "Yes, Professor Benner." She glanced out of the corner of her eye at him and saw him turn a glare on her the moment Benner stepped away. She might have been more worried about the glare, had his lips not still held the traces of his smile. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and smiled innocently at him.  
  
  
"Good. Now, if you will please enlighten us; what is the answer to the question posed in section 5.3?" Benner asked as she walked back towards the front of the class. As Mycroft began to speak, Anthea rested her chin on her hand and glanced out the window, smiling slightly. She was extremely happy that her friend had finally made his move- well, she amended, at least _spoken_ to his crush. Her brows furrowed slightly as the thought of Sally Donovan and Philip Anderson-  _together in that way_  -crossed her mind, but she pushed it away and turned back towards Myc just in time to see him finish up his answer to Benner's question. 

  
"Correct. Very good Mr. Holmes. It is nice to see that missing class doesn't mean you don't do your work. Now, if you'll turn to page 274, I'd like you to all read over the chart there..."

  
Mycroft turned towards her with a triumphant smirk on his face, and Anthea stuck her tongue out at him.   
  
  
"Childish." He muttered.  
  
Anthea corrected him. "Hilarious." They both turned towards one another and smiled, before going back to their textbooks and glancing over the chart Benner had assigned them. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
